


Let it go, baby

by macsdennis



Category: Mad Men
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, Peggy finds out she’s pregnant again, Set three years after the finale, and goes into panic mode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23965831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macsdennis/pseuds/macsdennis
Summary: Peggy always has a plan for everything. Except this.
Relationships: Peggy Olson/Stan Rizzo
Comments: 11
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

Well. This hadn’t been a part of her plan. 

Peggy stared down at the stupid test tube in her hand. That ring at the top was mocking her, like a falsely-innocent eye staring up at her. 

She could feel the panic rising in her throat. The two hour waiting stage was hard enough - she had paced around the apartment for what felt like an eternity, refusing to even look at the horrible contraption that sat on the (disinfected) kitchen counter-top. Peggy knew she was worried, because she had split her time between pacing and housework, obviously using it as a subconscious distraction. She usually left the cleaning for days until Stan complained enough about it. And then usually they fought for another few days over who should do the housework. 

“You’re the woman, you do the cleaning!”  
“I make the most money, I’m the breadwinner, so you dust the fucking shelves!”

Usually then, the dishes were piling up and the bins started to smell, so they would both humbly back down and split the work between them. Peggy smiled thinking about their weird little ways as she aggressively scrubbed the surfaces, then remembered why she was cleaning and frowned again. 

Last night, when Stan had come out of the shower butt-naked and announced that he was still going to work the next day (expecting sympathy - he had what Peggy teasingly called ‘man flu’), the cogs in her head immediately began to whir. The next day was her day off, an irritating necessity. Days off never quite felt like days off, she was always still overrun with work to do and calls to make, so she often complained about having them at all. Whenever she moaned about not being at work, Stan shook his head and ruffled her hair, much to her annoyance, and called her a workaholic. 

“What’re you gonna do with yourself tomorrow then, boss?”  
Stan haphazardly dried his hair with a towel off the back of the chair at Peggy’s makeup table, his beard still dripping water onto the carpet. Despite being together for almost three years now, Peggy still felt a fresh surge of attraction whenever she saw her boyfriend naked - it reminded her of that time in the hotel room, before he grew a beard and let his hair get shaggy, when they both stripped off and stared each other down. The tension in the air had been palpable, yet Peggy hadn’t let herself break. Looking at him many years on, lying in their shared bed, she questioned her younger self’s sanity for not jumping on the obnoxious asshole right there and then. All to win some imaginary competition. She was still glad she had won.

“Oh, you know,” Peggy tried her best to keep her voice casual. “Sort out those templates, call Mom. Grocery shopping. Maybe go and see Joan?”  
Stan chucked deeply as he climbed into bed. She rolled over and pressed her body up against his, burrowing into his warmth. “Are you sure she has time for you now? She’s way too successful for the likes of us.”  
Peggy playfully slapped his belly. “For you, maybe.” 

Peggy had indeed done the work she needed to do, called her mother (a phone call which had left her feeling frustrated and exhausted, as usual) and decided to ring Joan instead of visit her, which seemed to be the best option due to how busy she was. Then, she had gone grocery shopping, taking her time deciding what they needed for the apartment, deliberating what they would have for dinner - and putting off buying what she actually needed. 

It was $12, not too expensive but still enough to make her roll her eyes. The box was heavy and conspicuous and would have made her self-conscious if she gave a damn what anyone else thought anymore. She was thirty-three years old, damn it, and if she wanted to buy a pregnancy test then she would buy a Goddamn pregnancy test. 

All that confidence had disappeared as soon as she dumped the shopping bags down in the kitchen and opened the box. It was large and complicated and looked more like something a scientist would use for a chemical experiment than a pregnancy test. 

Peggy had struggled with the actual ‘doing’ part of the test, cursing and grumbling in the tiny bathroom as she tried to pee in the right place. Eventually, she had got to grips with it - and here she was. Sat at the kitchen table, dying for a cigarette - pregnant. 

It wasn’t like her and Stan hadn’t talked about it. Obviously he knew about the baby, the thing she never thought about but that would occasionally struggle to the forefront of her mind.  
A few months after they got together, Peggy steeled herself, sat him down on her office sofa and told him that it had been none other than Pete Campbell’s baby. She had expected Stan to barge out of the office, slam his hand down on any available table, demand Pete’s new address from someone and go and smash his face in. Part of her had hoped he would - she embarrassingly found him sexy when he was riled up - but only a small part of her. The rest of her was infinitely grateful that he had simply sighed, put out his cigarette and pulled her close. 

And it wasn’t like she expected her and Stan to break up. With everyone else she had dated, it had always felt like too much hard work. She had confessed to Stan in bed one night that, whilst she had been horrified at accidentally stabbing Abe, she had also felt insanely relieved when he ended things. Stan had laughed until he cried and called her a little psychopath. 

With Stan it felt... not exactly easy, because nothing ever was, but natural at least. She never woke up next to him and wished she was in bed by herself, or resented his presence when he hugged her from behind. It was simple: they loved each other. Stan always thought it had something to do with the fact that they were best friends for a few years before, and Peggy was inclined to agree with him. 

Even Peggy’s mother liked him. The first time she brought Stan to meet her, Peggy could feel the panic rising up her throat like bile, worrying that he would say the wrong thing or that her mother would berate him for not being a Catholic, or that she would purse her lips at Stan’s thick beard and shaggy hair. But, when he stood waiting for her in the living room in a tie and his smartest blazer, his hair brushed, ready to take her arm and drive to the restaurant, her heart had unknotted itself, and she knew that, no matter what her Mom said or thought, he was the right man for her.  
The night itself had actually been a success: Peggy had been almost completely ignored by her mother, much to Stan’s amusement, because she was so focused on finding out everything she could about Stan. Where he had grown up, what his parents did, what his first job was - Stan had been cordial and charming, almost flirtatious, and had insisted on paying for everything. The next morning, whilst he was still snoring in bed, Peggy was forced to listen to her mother gushing about him down the phone, peppering her compliments with an occasional: “And when do you think you’ll get married, dear?”

Shit. She hadn’t thought of that. Peggy groaned at herself for being so stupid. Her mother would kill her if she found out she was pregnant, again, out of wedlock. Marriage had been discussed, just like the possibility of starting a family had been, but always as an afterthought. Peggy knew that Stan wanted kids, and she wasn’t completely averse to the idea, but they hadn’t made any concrete plans for getting married. They were both simply happy living together as a couple without some stupid piece of paper bonding them together.  
As much as Peggy’s mother liked Stan, since they had met for the first time, all Peggy heard about was marriage this, wedding that. Her mother was unknowingly putting her off the whole idea. 

Against her better judgement, Peggy grabbed the crumpled packet of cigarettes that Stan had left lying on the table, stuck one in her mouth and went to light it - then cursed herself and put it back in the packet. 

Her hands were shaking slightly, so she shoved them under her thighs and sat on them. Closing her eyes, Peggy drew up a plan in her head.

It was four o’clock. Stan would be home in an hour, so she had time to tidy away the kit and compose herself. Then she would occupy herself for a while, put the food away, maybe call into work and see how her team are doing. Then, Stan would come home. She would kiss him, they would debate what to have for dinner, he would tell her about his day, and then she would tell him that she’s pregnant. 

She opened her eyes and tried to smile to herself. Everything was okay. 

The sound of keys jangling came from outside the door, and Peggy jumped. At that moment, she decided that God must hate her. For some reason unbeknownst to her, Peggy tried to clear away the kit in the time it took for Stan to open the door to the apartment and come inside, which resulted in her tripping over her own feet and dropping the equipment; the test tube smashed, and urine spilled all over the hardwood kitchen flooring.  
“Honey, I’m home!” Stan’s usual ironic greeting was loud and jovial. Peggy wanted to cry. “Don let me off early so I got Chinese for - what the fuck?” 

He stopped short in the living room, staring at the scene in the kitchen. The smell of Chinese food from the brown paper bag under Stan’s arm suddenly filled the apartment. Peggy, stood in a puddle of her own urine, opened her mouth to explain, and threw up all over her feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a two-part fic!
> 
> I recently rewatched Mad Men and fell in love with Peggy and Rizzo all over again - I’m so happy they got together in the end! This is just a little fic about their future together and how they would potentially deal with an unplanned pregnancy. 
> 
> Also, I did a little research and found out that at-home pregnancy tests were available to the public in 1969, which is when the final season of Mad Men in set - this is set in 1972, so Peggy would have been able to get one for herself. They were so heavy-duty compared to the tests we can get now! 
> 
> Will be updated soon


	2. Chapter 2

Half an hour later, Peggy was curled up on the sofa under a blanket, watching Stan put away the mop and bucket. 

After being sick, she had burst into tears, and Stan had immediately dropped his work bag and the Chinese food and rushed over to her. She had let him manoeuvre her around, grateful for his strong hands and solid arms; he had sat her on the side of the bath, eased off her shoes and washed her feet, not speaking but just letting her catch her breath. Then he had poured her a glass of water, wrapped her up and settled her on the sofa before cleaning up the mess of urine and vomit. Peggy had tried to start explaining, but he had told her to relax just for a bit whilst he cleared up. She had felt like crying again, but instead just sipped the water and lay on her side, pressing her pounding head into the sofa cushions.

Stan was deftly ignoring the detritus still left on the table - Peggy doubted he even knew what the box was for, but the urine and smashed glass all over the floor had probably given it away. 

When the floor was mopped up and the cleaning equipment was stored in the cupboard again, Stan made his way over to the sofa. He sat down at the opposite end to Peggy’s head, gently grabbing her bare feet and putting them across his lap. She turned her head to look at him, and was overcome, as she occasionally was, with a swooping feeling of love and gratitude to the bear-like, bearded man she lived and worked with. 

“What’s up, Peg?”

Stan’s hand was dry and warm as it held her foot, the other hand softly stroking her calf over the blanket. His mouth was turned down slightly, barely distinguishable because of the bushy beard he had sported for almost five years now. Once, last year, she had made a quiet suggestion that he shave it off - that suggestion had resulted in one of their biggest arguments to date, coming to a head when Stan threatened to take his stuff and sleep at work. Looking back on it, Peggy was glad he didn’t shave: she fancied him a lot more with facial hair. 

She could feel him looking at her as she kept her gaze focused on the blanket twisted between her fingers. 

“Come on, Peggy. Talk to me.” Peggy knew there was no point trying to conceal anything from Stan. For one thing, he had always been able to see straight through her, even when they barely knew each other. Also, he was the father of her unborn child, so what would be the use in trying to conceal a bombshell as big as that? 

Her throat felt blocked up as she tried to speak. She felt her eyes prickle as thy threatened to spill over with tears, but she managed to hold them back - she’d had enough practice at that in Don’s office. 

Finally, her mouth formed the words.

“I’m pregnant.”

As she spoke, she looked away from Stan’s face, turned it to the side and looked down at the floor. The carpet in their living room was so ugly, an awful red and brown pattern that she’d been meaning to get him to take up soon. His hand still rested on her bare foot, not moving. Peggy kept her gaze fixed on the floor. 

“Is that why your boobs are bigger?”

Peggy’s head snapped up to gawk at her boyfriend. She could see his mouth curling into a tiny smirk underneath the beard. “What?”

“I’m just saying,” Stan was full-on grinning now. “There’s been a noticeable change. I haven’t said anything because I didn’t want you to think I was saying you’ve put chub on.” 

Peggy couldn’t believe what she was hearing; her mouth hung open. “Are you serious?”  
“Look, I see your boobs every day, I’m bound to notice if they’re bigger than usual!”  
“Well you’re going to stop seeing them very soon if you don’t react to this like a normal human being!” The tears that she’d been holding back started to spill over as she wrenched her feet out of his lap, sitting up straight. “I’ve just told you I’m carrying your baby and you’re acting like a stupid, horny teenager.” 

“Hey, hey!” Stan shifted up the sofa to sit right next to her, putting his arm around her shaking shoulders. For a moment she resisted, pushing against him, but almost immediately gave in and leaned into him, breathing in the familiar warm scent of cigarettes, weed and clean linen sheets. He kissed the top of her head, and Peggy felt his voice reverberate through his chest. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“It’s okay.” In a small act of revenge, She wiped her nose on his shirt. She felt him chuckle. 

“So... this is real, then?”  
Peggy moved so she could look Stan square in the face. He was trying to keep his expression neutral, but after knowing him for almost six years, she could tell what he was really feeling. He was gnawing his bottom lip, something she had noticed a while ago that he did when he was nervous but trying not to show it. She wiped her eyes, knowing her makeup was smudged but not caring. 

“Yeah. This is real.”  
“Holy... holy shit.” 

Stan blew out a long breath. Peggy watched him go through a series of short, anxious movements: he leaned forwards, elbows on his knees; he buried his face into his hands; he carded his large hands through his thick hair. Finally, he turned to her again. 

“You’re sure?”  
“I don’t know if you noticed, but there was piss all over the floor when you came home-“  
“Yeah, no need to be like that, Little Miss Sarcasm. I didn’t even know you could, you know, find out at home.”  
“Well, you can now. And I am. I skipped a period.”  
“Fuck.”  
“Plus, the smell of the Chinese food alone made me vomit, and-“  
“You love Chinese food.”  
“Exactly.” 

Stan leaned back, one arm along the back of the sofa, stroking Peggy’s shoulder absent-mindedly, the other clamped over his forehead. “Fuck. Pregnant.” He looked at her sincerely. “Are you okay?”  
“Yeah.” Peggy tucked her legs up onto the sofa again. “I don’t know. In shock, I guess.”  
“When did you start suspecting?”  
“When I missed my period. I’m usually like clockwork.”  
“And what do you...” Stan cleared his throat. “What do you want to do?”  
Peggy blinked. “What do you want to do?”

Stan chuckled. “Babe, it’s your body.”  
“It’s our baby.”  
His hand came up to caress her face; it was almost as big as her head. She leaned her cheek into his palm. His voice was low. “You’ve been through this before, though, and you didn’t want to keep it then. I won’t make you keep it now, if you don’t want to. It’s... it’s up to you.” 

For a moment. Peggy’s heart felt like it was twisted into a tight knot that could never come undone. She remembered the sharp jabs of pain in her stomach and the haze of the medicine she was put on. She saw Don sat next to her hospital bed. She saw Pete’s face, looking like his world had caved in, when she finally told him. She thought about their child, her son, and how he wasn’t really hers. He didn’t really exist. 

She looked up. She saw Stan, his eyes wide and focused on her. His hands were twisted together, just like hers had been, those large, clumsy, familiar fingers clenching in on themselves. 

Peggy knew it wouldn’t be the same. She hadn’t even known all those years before, hadn’t even suspected that there was something, someone, growing inside her. And this time, she wouldn’t have to hide it from anyone. It wouldn’t hang over her head like some half-forgotten bad dream, plaguing her and jabbing her in the brain whenever Pete stalked into her line of vision. This time, her baby would be Stan’s baby - a product of her and Stan Rizzo, something to take care of. 

Stan would be a good father, she had always known that. Before he had hung up the phone and ran into her office like it was some sort of romantic drama, Peggy had occasionally found herself daydreaming about a future with him. She had never allowed herself to get too carried away with it, always mentally slapping herself and getting back to whatever work was piling up on her desk. But the idea of him simply holding her hand or taking her to dinner sometimes pushed its way to the front of her mind, occasionally accompanied by images of him pushing some faceless child on a swing, or trundling along down the street with a pram. 

Once, back at Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce, she had walked into Creative with a cup of coffee and found Rizzo and Ginsberg deep in conversation, Stan’s feet (to Peggy’s irritation) up on the table. Ginsberg had looked up when she walked in, smiling in his twitchy, sardonic way.  
“Hey, Olson. What d’you reckon about your boy here?”  
“He’s not my boy. Reckon about what?” She had sat down next to Stan, slapping his hand away when he tried to grab her mug for a sip of coffee.  
“Reckon he’d be a good dad?”  
Peggy had tilted her head and pretended to consider. He was looking at her, grinning, with a rakish expression.  
“Hmm. Nah.”  
“Are you serious?” Stan had seemed so genuinely offended that he took his feet off the table to sit up and glare at Peggy. “I’d be a fucking great dad, and you know it.”  
“You smoke too much weed, drink too much beer and can’t keep a girlfriend for more than a month,” Peggy had quipped, fighting the blush that was struggling its way up her neck. “How is that father material?”  
“Pretty much what my dad was like.” Stan grinned again, but a slightly awkward silence had settled over the room. Peggy remembered resisting the urge to give him a hug. 

Peggy grabbed his hand on top of the blanket.  
“I want to keep it.”  
Stan looked like a hammer had hit him in the back of the head. “Fuck. Really? You’re sure?”  
“Stan, I love you. I know we haven’t planned for this but we can work through it. It isn’t like I’m twenty-one and single anymore, I know this isn’t something I’ll be doing on my own. I think... I think we’re ready. I think I’m ready.”

Stan blew out another deep breath and when he spoke, his voice sounded strangled. “Wow. Holy shit. I’m gonna be a dad.” Peggy could see his eyes glistening; he looked at her properly, his face suddenly splitting into a huge grin. 

“Peggy! Holy shit, we’re having a baby. A fucking baby!”  
“You know, if you want to be a good dad you’ll have to stop cursing so much.” Peggy could suddenly hardly speak for crying as Stan pulled her into a tight hug. She clung onto him, his arms wrapping her up as she cried into his shoulder. 

“This will be different, Peg.” He whispered in her ear, making her shiver. “This is for us. This baby is ours. You won’t have to do this alone.”  
“I know.”  
“Should we... can we get married?” 

She pulled back, her arms still around his shoulders.  
“What?”  
Stan looked rather sheepish, but determinedly carried on, his face still wet with tears. “I know this isn’t the most romantic proposal, and it might feel like a shotgun sort of thing but I always knew we were going to get married so... we probably should.”  
“Oh yeah?” Peggy smiled, her heart beating faster. “When did you know we’d get married?”  
Stan answered immediately. “When I saw you naked.”  
“You hated me then.”  
“Not hated, per say, just... disliked. But, you know. Then I you got naked, and-“  
“Everything changed?”

Stan’s eyes gleamed. “You have no idea, baby.”  
He kissed her, and she kissed him back, smiling. His hand rested on her belly. 

“I can’t believe there’s a baby Rizzo in there.”  
“I’m going to be Mrs. Rizzo. Peggy Rizzo.” She tried the name out on her tongue. “Mrs. Peggy Rizzo.”  
“Sounds hot.”

Hours later, after the Chinese food had been dumped in the bin and Stan had made spaghetti, with the only light coming from the moon peeking through the window, Peggy lifted her head from where it was resting his stomach and got up from the sofa. 

“Don’t strain yourself, Peg.”  
“Jesus Christ, Rizzo, I’m two months pregnant, not disabled.”  
He sipped his beer and chuckled. “That’s my baby in there. Precious cargo and all that. Hey, I’ve just thought. You’re not going to quit work, are you?”

Peggy stretched and shook her head. “God, no. I’ll do what Joan did and come back after maternity leave. My mother will be absolutely thrilled to have a baby to look after finally.” 

She picked the phone up off its receiver.  
“You calling her now?” Stan said with his eyes shut. “Careful, she might have a fit from happiness when you tell her I’ve finally popped the question.”

Peggy chuckled and turned away. “No, someone else. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

Flipping through the phone book, she found his home number; since he had come back, he had broken the habit of staying ridiculously late, or even all night, at work. 

Peggy dialled the number and waited for the crackle at the other end of the line. Her heart was in her mouth. 

“Hello?”

Peggy smiled.

“Don? It’s me. I have something to tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so fun to write!
> 
> I added the tiny bit with Don at the end on a whim - it’s based on the implication that he came back from California and made the iconic ‘I’d like to buy the world a Coke’ advert
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


End file.
